


A Waste of a Day

by isthisrubble



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, day wasted, mentions of childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisrubble/pseuds/isthisrubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The word "Skyfall" brings up some things Bond would rather forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Waste of a Day

It _was_ a day wasted. He didn't need to do these stupid tests, and word association was the stupidest of them all. He only played along because he knew who was watching him, and he went through the blasted thing with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Until he mentioned Skyfall.

They'd personalised the test before, when M had still been worried that his lingering affection for Vesper would compromise him. The word had been "Venice" and the first thing he'd thought of was "water", so that's what he'd said. The image of her, trapped and lifeless, haunted him for a week afterwards, but nothing was ever said of it again, and he passed his evaluation with flying colours.

But _Skyfall?_ What did Skyfall have to do with MI6? If they wanted to blow the place up they were welcome to it, but it couldn't be that. Who did they think they were, asking about something that had nothing to do with his work.

He got himself out of there as fast as he could, and at the end of the day he pointedly ignored the car they sent and walked back to the hotel. He bought some Scotch from the bar - it was cheap stuff, but it was alcohol - and rode the elevator up to his room.

He poured himself a glass, but couldn't hold it, his hand was shaking too much. Damn MI6 and their blasted interference, damn his emotions refusing to behave, damn his memories for refusing to be squashed -

_-a small boy, hunched and frightened, cowering in a corner-_

_-the same boy, alone in a house too big for him, constantly waiting at his window-_

_-a man who cared, but still said the words the boy feared most-_

_-a tunnel, dark and damp, and the boy, choking on tears and terror-_

He threw the glass against the wall as hard as he could, and watched coldly as glass and Scotch sprayed everywhere.

_Done._


End file.
